


A Warden Friend Indeed

by gremlinquisitor (suchanadorer)



Series: Padi Hawke [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, I love Alistair/Bethany but sadly it's offscreen in this, Implied Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/gremlinquisitor
Summary: Just some scenes with Padi Hawke and Alistair when they're both at Skyhold.





	1. Chapter 1

“Do you think this is funny, what’s happening to the Wardens, to all of us? This is not a game, Hawke.”

He staggers, back hitting the wall hard where she’s shoved him, her arm across his chest, holding him there with strength he wouldn’t have looked for in her slender frame. Her eyes burn where she stares up at him, any trace of humor gone from her expression, and he’s all but forgotten whatever quip it was that had made him explode to begin with. 

“You think I don’t know that?” The leather of his armor squeaks when she pushes at him. “My only sister is out there somewhere right now living through this, and you’re here, which means she is that much more alone. And you didn’t tell me, not until I brought the Inquisitor to see you.”

He clears his throat, not ready to admit to losing the upper hand. “As I said, I do try to keep--”

Her lip curls. “You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d never have let you leave Bethany on her own with this, and I couldn’t let you bring her to Skyhold.” She shoves him once more for good measure before turning away, and he sets his full weight on the floor again, tugging on his armor to adjust it back into place.

“She wanted to come, you know.” He means it as a sort of olive branch, but the intention doesn’t reach her. 

“Of course she did. She likes to help, she always has.” She’s quiet for a moment, back to him, head cocked to one side. “How did you get her to not follow you?”  
He rubs a hand at the back of his neck before catching himself and letting his hand fall to his side. It’s a tell, one he hasn’t quite gotten rid of after all these years, and he’s relieved she didn’t turn around to see it.

“We… discussed it.”

She starts laughing, again, and this time he doesn’t have the resolve to fight her on it. She knows her sister, and he knows that she knows how that discussion must have gone.

"What did you tell her?" She asks without turning around, and the question catches him off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"This discussion. How did you get her to stay behind?" Hawke is pressing for something. He sees it when she wheels around to look at him again, arms folded across her chest and head tilted just so. Her sister learned that from her, or they both did from their mother, he suspects. Either way he feels caught in her gaze, as if she'll know immediately if he lies.

"I told her you'd be here, that you'd made contact with me and asked me to come."

"And that convinced her that she should stay as far away as possible?" She’s not buying it, and he knows it.

Alistair rolls his eyes, shrugging a little. "That convinced her that she should be the one to go, and I should be the one to stay, and why didn't you get in touch with her instead of me, she wondered. I didn't have an answer to that one." Except he did, but he didn't have it from Hawke so he didn't want to use it. He’d never been close with his siblings, but there had been people in his life that he’d cared about deeply. Of course Hawke would want to keep her sister as far from the fight as possible, and of course that meant some other Warden going in Bethany's place. But it wasn't an argument that Bethany would be interested in hearing. He knew better than to try.

"I told her I'd take care of you,” he offers, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I'd look after you, wouldn't let anything happen to you." She lifts her chin, and he holds his hands out, ready to defend himself. 

"I know you don't need it! I've seen you in action with your bow, you're something to behold. You're gonna be just fine, but she needed something, and that was what she needed."

Hawke shakes her head, and her eyes he sees that same glimmer of humor, but there's no sparkle to it, and he thinks he understands better. Hadn't he been the same once? He'd wanted to be funny, part of his way of engaging with the world, but it hid fear, uncertainty, doubt in himself and his future. 

He sees it on her face now as well, that same sort of darkness. She's doing her best to hide it, and anyone who hasn't seen what they've seen and done what they've done might dismiss it, but there's fear there.

"I told her the same thing," she replies. "I sent a raven; she must have gotten it by now. I asked if I could borrow Alistair, promised her I'd bring you back whole and healthy, mint condition." Her eyes flick over him. "Or at least as close as passes these days."

Something turns over, clicks in his chest, and he's laughing as well, relishing the irony of them both working so hard to reassure Bethany that they will each take care of the other. Both of them want the same thing for her -- to keep her as far from the front lines as possible, to keep her out of danger for as long as they can. 

And so they are here, together, without her.

“I want her to be safe, Hawke.” He calms down, coughs into his fist. “I care about her.”

Alistair shifts his weight under the unexpected scrutiny of Hawke’s gaze. He’s heard the stories of her, same as half of Thedas, and he’s heard what Bethany tells him, even if isn’t much, but none of that prepares him for the full power of Padi Hawke’s eyes on his face, searching his soul. This is the woman who saved a city from ruin, at least for a time. A Champion, indeed.

“You do, don’t you?” She squints, but she’s smiling, different than before.

He nods. “A great deal. I want her safe, same as you.”

She regards him a moment longer, as if deciding something. He’s not entirely sure he likes it, but then she smiles and reaches out to pat his shoulder.

“Yeah, ok,” she says, turning away and flicking two fingers for him to follow. “Come on.”

“Where are you taking me?” He asks, amused, but already trailing after her.

“I’m going to get you drunk at The Herald’s Rest.”

Alistair scoffs. “I’d like to see you try.”


	2. I Wish I'd Never Met You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke did succeed at getting Alistair drunk.

“Maker’s breath, is that the sun?”

Alistair’s head is pounding, and his mouth is dry, almost fuzzy where his tongue sticks to the roof. Breathing is not so much a struggle as a hassle, no matter how necessary it may be. There is no part of him which is comfortable, as if his skin shrunk during the night.

He knows the feeling well, though it's been a while since he last felt it. Today will be long; not unbearable by any stretch, but made more difficult by foolish choices the night before. He's always been able to drink in moderation, or at least most of the time. Rare are the occasions when he's overindulged, and always at a time of celebration. But he is definitely still at Skyhold, and there is definitely nothing to celebrate yet.

The bed shifts by his hip, and his heart stops, pressed against the bottom of his throat. What he'd thought was some strange lumpiness in the mattress is the unevenness where another person is weighing it down. That he'd made poor decisions at The Herald's Rest is one thing, but to think that he's broken a promise in the midst of it, that is something else entirely. His stomach turns and he squeezes his eyes closed as he tries to remember. He'd been fighting with Hawke, and then... then...

There is a grunt by his left ear, and he slowly opens his eyes, squinting against the light slanting in through the window. There is someone beside him in the bed.

Another body.

Bent over, their back to him. Lots and lots of blonde hair...

“Hawke?”

She straightens, one arm looping up over her head to sweep her hair over her shoulder as she turns to look at him. She looks tired, but nowhere near as awful as he feels. Her green eyes are unfairly bright, and she has the absolute cheek to smile at him when she sees that he's awake.

"I thought maybe you died. The Commander's been running drills all morning and the noise is incredible, but you slept right through it." She goes back to tying her boot.

"What-- Why are you here?" He presses the heel of his hand to the spot between his eyebrows and sighs, letting his head fall back on the pillow. But even that is futile, no more comfortable than straining to look at her. 

Hawke finishes with her boots and turns to look at him, one leg pulled up onto the bed. She braids her hair while she talks, and he tries to watch her fingers, but they move too quickly and he closes his eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be here? This is my room. I brought us here last night. You were in no state to be on your own, not even here in Skyhold. Bethany would never let me forget it if you ruined your reputation on my watch, falling asleep in the stables or pissing against--"

He makes a noise to cut her off, not wanting to know the end of that thought. 

"Bethany..." There is a clash of metal on metal outside and something bitter wells up at the back of his throat. "Your sister. My..." He's not quite sure yet what they are to each other, and his current state of mind is not one that will help him figure that out. "So, wait. You're saying that you brought me here, but we didn't-- You and I, I mean, we--"

Hawke's eyes go wide, and her laugh is sharp, leaving him groaning. "Alistair, no. Oh, is that what you thought? No, we-- Maker, Bethany would kill us both." He feels her weight shift a little on the bed. "You don't remember last night, do you?" A chuckle. "What's the last thing you remember?"

He draws a deep breath as if it will help to clear his head, but nothing comes to him. "I remember thinking that I wished I’d never met you,” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “We went to the Rest. You wanted us to take a night off from fighting with each other, or something, you said. And you..." He furrows his brows. "I lost a drinking contest, didn't I?"

"Yes you did," she replies with entirely too much pleasure. "I don't what made you think you'd be able to take me, but you paid for round after round of little shots of liquor. It was the most amazing thing. I really thought you were keeping up, but then you stopped talking, and then you just fell over. How is your wrist, by the way?"

He has no memory of any of this, but he rolls both his hands to test his wrists, and sure enough, the right one protests, actual pain through the cloud of discomfort. It's wrapped already, a job hastily done, no doubt last night after she'd brought him back here. "I can move it," he mutters, blinking open his eyes to look at the ceiling, then over at her. "So it's not broken. It'll be fine." 

"As long as you can hold a sword by the end of the day. We're heading out as soon as we’re all ready.” 

He groans more solidly this time as he pushes himself up to sit, his thoughts following a second behind his head, everything rushing to catch up. His mind is knitting itself back together, and now that he looks, it's clear that nothing happened between them the night before. He still has almost all his clothes on, and the chair in the corner of the room is piled high with blankets and pillows. Hawke must have given him the bed. It's a gesture of kindness that he hadn't looked for from her, and that he's not sure how to address.

She stands, smoothing her hands down her front before turning to face him, hands on hips. "I am going to head down to see what sort of food I can find. Would you like me to bring you up something, or will you be down soon?"

"No food," he sighs, shaking his head and immediately regretting the gesture. "But--"

"There, on the table." She points, and he follows her finger to the table by the bed, where a glass pitcher of water stands, along with a cup. There's some sort of sliced fruit in the water as well.

"You... you did this?" He asks, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

She nods. "I told you, Bethany would never forgive me if I let something happen to you. And when I say that, I take into consideration the idea that I am a thing that happens to people."

She crosses the room, stopping to look back at him when she reaches the door. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad we met.”

He pauses where he’s started to pour himself a glass of water. “What do you mean?”

“What you said,” she replies, leaning against the edge of the open door. “That you wished you’d never met me.” 

“Did I say that?” He tilts his head when he looks up at her, unsure how to hold it so it doesn’t feel too heavy.

“Yeah, just now. You were thinking it last night.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I… That was last night. But I’m glad you’re here now, and I’m… I’m glad you’re here.”

Hawke waits, watching him, and he hates her patience, hates the way it sees straight to the heart of him.

“This would be easier if I didn’t know you,” he explains. “If I didn’t know who you are, to Thedas, to Kirkwall, to…”

She seems to accept it, nodding and stepping away again. “All right then. Come down soon, though, so I don’t have to start answering questions. The lies will get more extravagant the longer we’re kept waiting for you,” she tosses back at him as she slips out the door. 

“Right,” he calls after her. One more glass of water, he tells himself, then he’ll start this day properly.


End file.
